“I’m not so desperate as to accept the most objectionable offers, Sir Heath,” she said. “But, of course, some dances require an exchange of partners—which can be most unfortunate, can it not?”
His eyes narrowed, and they continued in silence until she was reunited with Mr. Arnott.
“Are you enjoying the dance, Lady Olivia?” he asked.
Olivia caught Miss Young’s spiteful smile and felt her cheeks warming.
“Y-yes, very much,” she said. “A-at least, I amnow.”
“I daresay you’ve had many dance partners this Season,” Mr. Arnott said.
“Not that many, sir.”
“Surely the sister of the Duke of Whitcombe will have had many offers. He’s a remarkable man.”
Olivia glanced about the ballroom in search of her brother, who was now sitting beside Eleanor, holding her hand.
“He’s the best of brothers,” she said. “He’s very kind to me, and he dotes on Eleanor—I adore her.”
“The duchess is a little…eccentric, is she not?”
Olivia tempered the flare of anger.
“Eleanor is the best of women,” she said. “She merely dislikes crowds and is discerning when it comes to the company she keeps—a sentiment I agree with.”
To his credit, he colored. “Forgive me. I meant no disrespect. I value eccentricity over conformity.”
“As does my brother,” Olivia said.
At that moment, as if he’d heard, Montague glanced up, and they exchanged a smile.
More than anything, she wanted him—her beloved brother who recognized her as his sister when many men of his station would not—to be proud of her.
Then she caught sight of a lone man standing in the corner of the room and her skin tightened in apprehension. He was more beast than man, and his large, muscular frame strained against his closely fitted dark-blue jacket. He seemed to be cast in a permanent shadow—not only the color of his hair, which was black as night, but the expression in his eyes, glittering darkly beneath a furrowed brow. A footman approached him with a tray, and he waved the fellow away with scowl.
He was the antithesis of Olivia’s mild-mannered, good-tempered—not to mention good-looking—dance partner. It was a wonder he bothered to attend a ball if he was going to remain in the corner ready to snarl at anyone who dared approach.
In fact, men who were disinclined to dance ought to stay awayfrom balls, for they only furthered the shame of the unfortunate women unable to secure dance partners.
But tonight, for once, I am not one of the unfortunates.
She turned a grateful smile toward Mr. Arnott. “Had you met my brother before tonight, sir?”
“No, Lady Olivia, but Lord Fairchild introduced us.”
Olivia cringed at his address. But how could she correct him in the middle of a dance?
“I knew I’d like him the moment we were introduced,” he added.
“Because he’s a duke?”
“Because he’s an Oxford man, like myself. Different college, though. I was at New College.”
“Oh?”
Olivia cursed herself. Doubtless she was expected to make some witty response to his declaration of having attended Oxford, but all she could muster was…oh.
“I always thought it amusing that New College was so named, given that it’s one of the oldest colleges. Of course, we weren’t at Oxford at the same time. I’ve only recently come down.”
